The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

shifted so that it continued to face him. As he stood, Jaylor grabbed the extra quilt to wrap around his shoulders against the night chill. The ball of light didn’t object or move.
    “What are you?” he whispered into the darkness, afraid to rouse Brevelan or the children in case the light turned hostile.
    No answer from the light.
    Jaylor took one step toward the central hearth. The light moved with him, remaining a few feet in front of his face.
    “Who sent you?” Jaylor probed with his mind as well as his words.
    The light bobbed a little, as if the question almost triggered a response but not quite.
    “Are you a message?”
    The light quivered and wobbled, almost joyfully.
    A strange summons indeed. Magicians were trained to send a flame through a glass to a designated person. What if Robb or Marcus were in trouble and couldn’t build a fire or reach a glass? The witchlight might serve the same purpose. He had to give the boys credit for ingenuity.
    “Give me your message,” he ordered.
    I AM YAAKKE AND I AM ALIVE!
     
    A long-handled shovel came readily to Jack’s hand. Several men had hefted it and discarded it without knowing why. The balance was wrong, the grip too large, or they preferred a pickax to a shovel.
    Jack allowed himself a small, secret smile. His staff, fixed as the handle of the shovel, didn’t like to be touched by anyone but him. The more he used it, the stronger his bond with this basic tool of magic became. Each day, the staff fed him memories and knowledge. Each night he practiced a spell or two. But still there was something he had to do. Something that compelled him to escape, beyond the need for mere survival.
    The iron chain around his ankle resisted magic. He was still bound to a partner or a pillar. Patchy-beard remained his chain-mate, someone who was too observing, always touching him, distracting him from his act of blankness.
    The supply caravan should be close. Soon Jack would have to take his chances and escape. He’d be able to complete . . . something. If he couldn’t break the chain, he’d have to drag his partner with him. The scraggly little man with bowed shoulders and patchy beard would slow him down, hamper his movements. If he waited a few more days until he was rotated back to being Fraank’s partner, his chance of survival improved. Fraank was trustworthy and still reasonably strong—though his mine cough worsened each morning. Patchy-beard made the hair on the back of Jack’s neck stand on end.
    Jack wished the cranky jackdaw would come back and show him how far the caravan had come, how much time he had to plan and work on a spell to unlock the chains.
    Aided by the strength of the staff, Jack stabbed his shovel at the nearest pile of rocky debris. As the blade clanged against solid rock, a new perception opened to him. A sound, so faint normal hearing could not detect it, whispered to him. Then the merest inkling of a vibration trickled through his toes to the soles of his feet.
    Something bright and shining hovered on the sides of his vision. He extended his senses with magic and sent them in all directions.
    “Rockfall!” he yelled with three years of stored energy. “Get out now .” Without waiting for orders he grabbed his chain-mate by the hand and lunged for the lift.
    He broke the staff free of the shovel blade and tucked his tool through the cord that held his trews around his waist where it wouldn’t get lost.
    Fifteen pairs of men followed him without question, tripping over their ankle chains in their haste. Two-by-two they squeezed into the lift designed to haul half that many men out of the shafts. Jack took a moment to make sure that Fraank was with them. The guard pulled on the bell rope signaling ascent. The lift stayed in place.
    An ominous roar rose from the deepest portion of the shaft. Dread hovered over each man’s left shoulder, like death waiting to pounce.
    “Simurgh take you lazy bastards,” the guard yelled up the shaft. “Pull us up!”
    The rumbling beneath the shaft grew louder. The lift seemed to sway side to side within the wobbling mine walls.
    Jack and his chain-mate, with surprising strength for such an elderly and scrawny man, reached for the emergency rope. Fraank and his partner on the opposite side of the crowded platform grabbed the companion rope. Together they hauled on the pulley device and lifted the crew an arm-length.
    Dust replaced breathable air. Pulsing roars filled Jack’s ears. “One,